Birthing Gone Wrong
by Boz1310
Summary: ONESHOT: What the title says. Tad bit AU, but decently so. A story in which Mary gives birth and Sherlock is the only one accompanying her. I am guessing this would be his worst nightmare...


**Birthing gone wrong **

**Boz1310**

_Word Count: 2,400 _

_Warning: I do not own Sherlock BBC. That rightfully belongs to the Moffanator and Godtiss. Characters belong to Sir AC Doyle except my OC at the very end. _

_Tad bit AU, but decently so. _

_AN: I could seriously imagine this happening. And so, I wrote a story about it. Enjoy!_

_**Stomp… Stomp…Stomp…**_

Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes with a sigh. Coming up the stairs was John and his extremely pregnant wife Mary Watson, nee Morstan. Sherlock grinned to himself as he mentally calculated Mary's weight by the amount of force she exerted onto the stairs as she walked up those seventeen steps. Hmm…. She was in her late third trimester, in fact only a short week from giving birth. He had to admit he was a bit surprised that Mary was still walking freely around. He had thought that John would have given her a second home at the local hospital with the amount of panic he had shown in the past two weeks.

A few weeks before, he had told Mary of his deduction on how he was able to know and predict her weight growth. To him, it was an aspect of his science of which he was particularly proud of for working out. He was not able to do this before since there were no pregnant women in his life and he didn't feel like taking a stroll in the park to stalk one. It was rather amusing as well. But apparently not so much to Mary or to John who gave him the stink eye.

"She's still crazily hormonally imbalanced." John once told him. "It's better if you don't make comments about her weight or any part of her physical appearance."

"I don't understand." Sherlock said, genuinely confused. "Shouldn't she be happy that people are noticing her pregnancy?"

"No, Sherlock, that's not how women work. You don't make comments about a woman unless they're along the lines of 'You're beautiful' or 'Is it just me or are you positively glowing?' I've learned from personal experience that it's best if you make little, if any, remarks about a woman's stature when she is with child."

"But-"

"Just go with me on this one Sherlock. Cease your yapping or you will suffer the wrath of my wife" John insisted, giving him the crazy eyes. "If you get Mary upset, she will slit my throat and I promise to make sure that _should _I go down, I will take you with me…" That threat ended the conversation. It turned out he was right, especially so, Sherlock learned, when he reported to Mary what John had told him. Well, he didn't 'report', (that was what John had called it afterwards) he had simply said a truthful statement and had even deemed it so.

"Probably 145-150 pounds," Sherlock muttered to himself as he brought his attention back to the present. "Hmm… 147!"

"Pardon, Sherlock?" Mary asked, sitting in John's chair and shifting the Union Jack pillow. Behind her, John motioned an index finger sliding across his throat in an extremely menacing manner. For once, Sherlock took the hint. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"I said you look utterly beautiful." Sherlock smiled, winking at John when Mary's attention was elsewhere. This wasn't really a lie. Sure, it wasn't what he had said when they were coming up the stairs, but Mary was a beautiful woman and John's advice was pretty solid. "Almost ready to pop, eh?"

Mary nodded, taking a bite out of a sandwich that John had made for her. The latter took a seat on the couch, reading the newspaper- or least, pretending to.

"I can't wait." She said eagerly. "Although the idea of pushing something the size of a watermelon through my vagina is a little unnerving…" She gave a quick shrug as John grimaced behind her.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine." Sherlock reassured her. Mary frowned.

"I suppose you're right. Still, it's like shoving a-"

"I think we're good with the birthing analogies for the moment." John said into his hand awkwardly. Mary talking about birthing with his friend was a little on the strange side and he felt disturbed by it to say the least.

"I wish you the utmost, best of luck." Sherlock said to Mary, ignoring the signals John was giving him to shut up. Mary turned her head at that moment and John tried to resume his newspaper pose, as much as Sherlock had done once in the Adler case. But alas, Mary had spotted it.

"I saw that John." She said teasingly. John smiled back and went over to kiss her before grabbing the mug to refill it with tea in the kitchen.

"You should see him at home," She said, shaking her head. "Every night before we go to bed, he checks the hospital bag at least twice. He does not let me carry anything except plates of food and sometimes he carries those for me as well. Goodness, I'm getting more restless by the second…" She was trying to sound exasperated but Sherlock knew she was really feeling the complete opposite.

"That's John Watson for you." He agreed solemnly, watching his best friend and ex-flatmate in the kitchen. He remembered when John took care of him like that; made sure that he had gotten enough to eat, enough sleep and other necessities for survival.

"Yeah, with all his fussing, I'm starting to think that he's the one who's pregnant!" She said with a giggle. "Not me."

"He looks tired." Sherlock was surprised at himself for pointing out the obvious. Was he, the infamous consulting detective, actually engaging in a regular conversation with another human being, as opposed to a lecture? Damn, John and Mary were really getting to him.

"Oh he is. He needs a break." Mary turned her attention to her husband. "Which is why, you will be going out to the pub with your mates."

"I can't do that." John disagreed quickly, selfless as ever. Although Sherlock could see his eyes said otherwise.

"Why not?"

"Well, who would take care of you?" John asked, "What if you go into labour earlier than expected? It's pretty common you know."

"I know dear, but I think I'll risk it." Mary smiled. "You've spent so much time on me that you deserve to go out and have some 'reasonably safe' fun." Mary also pointed out, "Mind you, once this little kicker is born-" she caressed her belly lovingly. "You will no longer have this kind of freedom to do these shenanigans. Enjoy it while you can honey."

That really seemed to convince John.

"You didn't answer my question." John said as faithful as ever.

"It's alright." Mary insisted. "I'll spend the day with Sherlock."

"WHAT?" Both men shouted. But the pregnant woman held her place. It was decided. Sherlock Holmes would be accompanying his best friend's bulging wife, whether he liked it or not.

"Is this really what you do with John?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. They had just exited the movie theatre. Mary explained that during her pregnancy she had cravings that were a little different from the ones usually had by a woman. While other women enjoyed eating chocolate or sand, she had a craving to watch horror films- the gorier the better. Although Sherlock was perfectly used to blood and guts, he was still trying to get the image of the man's exploding ribcage out of his mind. Despite trying to convince her otherwise, Mary decided watching a movie where a small being bursting out of someone's body would be suitable and not totally inappropriate for a woman bearing a child to be watching.

"Of course not Sherlock." Mary said, smiling as if spending hours at the cinema watching Saw and Alien movies was perfectly normal. "John would never approve. I have to admit though; this craving is really starting to scare me. You don't think it's an omen do you?" Sherlock stared at her. Besides thinking about the movie with the possessed boy of the same title, he finally understood what John meant when he said "pregnancy brain".

"I highly doubt it Mary." Sherlock tried reassuring her whilst fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "And if it is an omen, I want you to know that I would not look forward to helping the police arrest your son or daughter. Even if his or her killing methods are as interesting as the modi operandi of the killers in the movies we just watched."

"It's nice to know you care." Mary added sarcastically.

"Where to next?" Sherlock asked getting into the car he had rented for the day.

"Let's go to the park!" Mary said excitingly, reminding him of a four year old. After buying three scoops of ice cream- and asking Sherlock if he wanted anything, which he politely declined- they headed off to the local park.

"What is John doing by the way?" Sherlock asked as they stopped to sit down. Mary groaned quietly and rubbed her ankles.

"Well, I'm not quite sure. Although he did tell me that he's spending part of the day visiting Harry and Clara," Mary recounted. "They're back together and they're thinking of surrogating one of their own, which I think is just lovely." She drawled on about one of their visits. At first Sherlock listened and nodded attentively, but his concentration easily drifted and he decided to stare at the people in the park and make as many deductions as he could in the time of her story.

"Then in the evening he's going to the pub with Mike and Bill to get pissed and watch football. He's practically single for a day!" she added.

"_If he was single, he would be solving cases with me instead of gallivanting with booze-crazed monkeys."_ Sherlock thought. His face must have showed some of the inner turmoil he was feeling because Mary stared at him with a sad expression on her face.

"You know, I don't know if John's mentioned anything of the sort but we're thinking of making you the godfather when the baby's born, if that's okay with you." Sherlock shifted his gaze elsewhere for a moment to hide his face, which was beginning to turn a faint shade of red.

"I'd be honoured." Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I'd like that very much. Just then, an old couple waddled over to them. _Like penguins_, Sherlock thought, remembering that movie narrated by Morgan Freeman that John had practically dragged him to see.

"Oh Phillip, look at the lovely couple. So young!" She crooned and hung on to the old man who in the process of lighting a cigarette. "Remember when we were like that Phillip?"

Before either one of them could inform the elderly pair that they were, in fact, not together, the old man- Phillip- peered at them.

"When's it due?" he pointed at Mary's belly with his cigarette. Sherlock grimaced at the lack of courtesy the man had. He was a borderline sociopath, but even he had to draw the line somewhere. The man had asked the question as if demanding the date to return a book, not to deliver a human being into the world. He wanted to say something, but Mary quickly explained that it was very soon.

"It's not my baby if that's what you were thinking." Sherlock said, returning the rudeness. The couple stared at them pitifully before leaving. Noticing the implicit message of what he had just said, he added, "And we're not a couple!"

"Smooth." Mary rolled her eyes. Suddenly she gasped, and then expelled the deep breath. It sounded shaky with hesitance and fear. Groaning loudly, she got up, clutching her belly.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock frowned and immediately took out his phone. Mary nodded and sighed before sitting down.

"Yes, I think it's just the Braxton Hicks or something." She said much to his relief. Nonetheless, he got up and motioned for them to leave. When she got up again, she gave a sudden cry.

"Nope!" She moaned. "I think I'm in labour!"

Her water conveniently broke after this statement. For a moment, Sherlock stood there speechless for the first time, contemplating what exactly should be done. Noticing the puddle growing in size beneath her, he led her back to the car. She was crying now and gasping in pain. Quickly calling John to inform him of the news, he drove them to the nearest hospital- St. Bartholomew's.

It took hours. Halfway through, John came in, dressed in scrubs and quickly replaced Sherlock, who was just ever so grateful. Forget the exploding ribcage; he had seen something much, much scarier.

Finally it was over. While Mary gave one last push delivering the screaming baby into the world, Sherlock was in the bathroom washing out his eyes for the umpteenth time. After the mother had spent some time with her new son, John picked up the blue bundle lovingly and took him to meet his godfather. He found Sherlock half asleep, waiting for him.

"Hey." He murmured, sitting beside him.

"Hello." The consulting detective said tiredly. "How are you doing?" this was directed to John and the child, but mostly to the child, whom he peered at with great interest.

"Slightly annoyed." John murmured. "I had paid a good deal of money for those birthing classes that Mary just had to have." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, the one day I wasn't being her shadow, her water breaks and you were there to experience it…" he glared at this best friend.

"John-"

"I'm just a little miffed that I missed half of an important milestone with her."

"Well, I think I spent a little too much time with her." Sherlock said with a shudder, carefully holding his godchild. "I have seen far too much of your wife. I am physically and emotionally scarred for life."

"Tad bit dramatic don't you think? Then again, you were always the drama queen."

"What's his name?"

"I think Charles suits him."

"Yuck- normalcy."

"Shut up."

"Then again, it does suit him. You have a point- for once."

"Yeah."

_AN: Well, that was… interesting. Nonetheless, I really hope you enjoyed that! Excuse me if there are location errors. I am not British (spoiler spoiler) so I had to google stuff (yay the magic of the internet!). As usual, review, favourite and follow. Questions can go in my PM box and I will answer as soon as possible _

_Cheers,_

_BOZ1310- May 14, 2013_


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